The Sassy Butt Kickin' Capers of Oberon & Puck
by NastifaceX
Summary: When Kurt was recruited by a strange agency, he never dreamed he'd be paired with Puck of all people, but the two gleeks find themselves falling in love through a slew of crazy super sassy alien butt kickin' capers!
1. In Which Kurt Is Contacted

**Disclaimer: If I were gay, and Ryan Murphy were single, we'd be…making real life inspiration for all future Klaine scenes, he he! So, in case you're dumb as sticks and still can't tell, I DON'T FUCKING OWN!**

**Warnings: slash (you should just expect if by now, biatches!), probably some language from Puck, violence, gore, lemons & limes (maybe a little fluff?), and pretty much general weirdness**

It was the middle of the night, and goodness knows I need my eight hours of sleep, but something kept bothering me. Somehow, I _felt_ something was slightly off, and something was going to happen. I slid out of bed, contemplating whether putting on a robe was necessary, as I headed towards the stairs. Both my dad and I knew that my _feelings_ were never wrong.

I had gotten out of bed and turned towards my door, about to put my foot on the first stair when everything blurred nauseatingly and suddenly, I just knew, even with my eyes clenched tightly shut, that I was in a different place.

This place, wherever it was, was colder, but from the flickering light I saw when I opened my eyes, I guessed it was lit and warmed by a fireplace. Tall book shelves made of some sort of metal and crowded with thousands of books towered in front of me and flanked a pair of heavy wooden double doors.

The carpet under my feet was thick and plush, a dark wine color. Moving my eyes liberally but my head marginally, I saw that I was probably in New York City, for the walls were actually glass that showed a magnificent view of the midnight skyline.

"Well, Mr. Hummel, since you seem to have finished examining my office, perhaps we should start discussing the actual purpose of this meeting?" a cold cultured voice with a slight Australian accent queried in a somewhat mocking manner. I blushed slightly before realizing that I should be angry, not embarrassed. I swirled around, ready to give whoever this dick was a piece of my mind. I stopped short.

The man was…hard to describe. He wasn't classically handsome like Finn or Sam, or geek chic like Artie, or even bad boy hot like Puck. No, his attractiveness came from…perhaps his bearing? His raven black hair started high of his forehead, and his too sharp ice blue eyes were sunken into his too pale face. His face was long, his cheeks sunken in, and his brow and chin jutted out. His nose would have made Snape feel better about himself, and his lips…well; let's just say that if he were the type, and he didn't seem to be, he'd be jealous of Voldemort. In short, the man was pretty darn ugly. But, somehow, he seemed rather…dashing, perhaps? Whatever it was, he also seemed very dangerous, and I decided not to spout off in his much too patronizingly amused face.

"Ah, so it seems I was right, as always. Mr. Hummel knows how to assess the situation and hold his tongue. Seems to me we've got a winner, eh, Karl?" His lips, or…what he would call lips, pulled back to reveal his teeth. Thankfully, they weren't rotted and crooked. Then, I realized he had mentioned someone named Karl. A swish of mechanical doors opening heralded strange footsteps, as if whoever they belonged to was staggering drunkenly. A slight intake of air sounded right behind my head and I had the uncomfortable hair-raising feeling of someone standing right, and I mean _right,_ behind me.

"Yes, Mr. Diablos," the person, I was assuming they were Karl, had a quiet, drawling voice, as if he had first forgotten then remembered every word before they passed his lips. The newly dubbed Mr. Diablos nodded briskly and opened a folder, the only thing on his desk, and started to read from a page in it.

"Hmmm, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, valedictorian, top of the class, French honor student, so-called 'gleek', future fashion designer/Broadway star, everyday fashionista, son of Burt Hummel, step-son and step-brother of Carol and Finn Hudson, respectively…you are many things, Mr. Hummel. And who knows, perhaps one day we can add 'agent of the Facility' to the list. Of course, that's all up to you, Kurt, can I call you Kurt? Good," Mr. Diablos went on without a pause for me to contribute.

"Now, right at this moment, you are probably wondering what is going on. You probably wish to know what exactly this 'Facility' is. That is perfectly fine, in fact, it's wonderful. Now then, allow me to fill in some gaps, yes?" the way he said that last bit made it sound vaguely dirty. I shrugged off the disturbing connotation and followed his move from his swivel chair to one of the bookshelves to my right. Karl sniffed loudly, as if afflicted with cold, and I had to firmly resist the urge to spin around and confront this unknown person with no respect for personal space.

"The Facility is a group of people dedicated to one thing, and one thing only…aliens. Whether it's checking out possible sightings, clearing areas, finding proof, stopping news from getting out, or disposing of any threat posed by them, 'keeping watch', so to speak, of any and all types of human interaction with extra-terrestrials is our specialty. Now, I know what you're thinking, Kurt…'Aliens, really?' Well, yes, Kurt, the answer is…Aliens, really," all this Mr. Diablos said as he idly perused books on the shelves. I kept my eyes on him, feeling like he should be joking, but finding it incredibly hard to imagine he was.

"Hundreds of men, women, and, in your case, teenagers, all over the world risk their lives unquestioningly all day, every day to make sure that the civilians can live their little apple pie lives. Of course, 'the Facility' can't be completely populated by brainless peons, can it? No, that is why we have people like you, Kurt. People like you, people smart, brilliant even, with many skills, talents, and ideas are the backbone of our agency," the dark haired man continued as he idly perused a thick book. I opened my mouth to ask what exactly he wanted me for, but he began speaking again before I could.

"Now, Kurt, I suppose you're wondering why, quite frankly, you should give a damn, am I right? Well, the answer is simple. Why else do people do dangerous, reckless, and foolhardy things? Money. Every agent of 'the Facility', from the janitor to I myself are very well paid, Kurt. And, seeing as, if you accept this job offer, you'll be one of our top agents and you'll be paid very handsomely. So, Kurt, what do you think," Mr. Diablos still sounded annoying patronizing, but with a truly questioning gleam in his sharp eyes.

I truly wanted to say no. I mean, really, who knew what all this entailed? I imagined I'd have to go through grueling training, in all probability, I'd have to kill these so-called 'aliens', and there were a million other things that could go horribly wrong, not the least being: what if they had a uniform that totally clashed with my complexion! But still, I had one of my "feelings", and since my feelings had an impressive resume, joining Glee being one of their accomplishments, I decided to go along for this ride. Who knows, maybe it's all just a weird dream brought on by too much sugar and too many video games with Finn right before bedtime. I looked Mr. Diablos straight in the eyes for the first time.

"I'm in."

_TBC…_

**AN: OKAY! I know, I know! I really should be working on the stories I already have, but this was another cudgel-wielding plot bunny that refused to leave me alone! So tell me what you think, you little blighters! Man, it's such a relief to write in first person POV! MS is killing me slowly! Now, Imma shut the fuck up and get outta your face, 'kay? Just one more thing, READ & REVIEW, CHICKIES!**

**Oh yeah, and, I have a little challenge. The first one to win MIGHT get a oneshot of their choice sometime in the far future when I'm not already swamped in fics of my own! Anywho, without further ado (hey, that rhymed!), here is your challenge!**

**Can anyone tell me why they think I chose this title?**


	2. In Which Kurt Hates Smug AIs

**Disclaimer: I'm a girl, a G-I-R-L. I think last time Ryan Murphy's partner checked, he was a guy.**

**Warnings: They're the **same** as chapter one. There's a bit more of the sci-fi part here too.**

"Brilliant! I knew I had chosen wisely with you, Kurt. Now then, Karl! Take our new agent to the outfitting room," commanded Mr. Diablos. Somehow, the way he said those last two words sounded terribly ominous. There was a sniffle from Karl and suddenly his close presence became slightly more threatening and infinitely more unsettling.

"Of course, sir," his voice drawled out and I felt a large, no, _huge_ hand clamp down on my shoulder. I resisted the urge to shudder. The hand tightened and then I felt him steering me towards the door, still, and quite expertly, in my opinion, keeping himself behind me and thusly out of my sight.

The doors, despite being wood, slid open automatically once we go in a range, showing the inside of a posh elevator, complete with potted plants and matching carpet. There was even a framed portrait, either a Picasso or a clever fake, hanging in the back. It was then I realized I was still only in my pajamas, and not even my nice silk ones. No, I was wearing a McKinley Titans tee, faded plaid pants that had elastic so stretched that they barely clung to my hips, and no shoes, and it seemed terribly surreal as I stepped in and tried to turn around to face the doors. Karl's hand, however, stopped me, and I noticed that the elevator had doors on both sides.

The ride was silent for the most part, the only noises the soft hum of the elevator, the "shush-shush" of my feet fidgeting on the carpet, and Karl's incessantly annoying sniffles. I wondered if it'd be too offending to ask him to just blow his nose already. But then again, Mr. Diablos wasn't just being flattering, I did know when to shut my mouth, a few incidents with Karofsky and his Amazing Brainless Goons aside. I stayed silent.

The doors slid open and Karl gently nudged me forward, so I stepped of the elevator, wincing slightly at the cold marble floor I had just stepped onto. Then, Karl finally spoke up. His voice was shockingly different than how it had sounded in Mr. Diablos' office.

"A little cold, eh? Well, don't worry; you won't have to worry about such trivial matters in a few minutes. Now, go over there and stand with you back to the wall," Karl directed in a quick, business-like manner. I nodded to show my comprehension and followed through, resisting the urges to look back at him or retch at the strange mutated…_things_ floating, growing, and hanging in various tubes, cages, and contraptions. Finally, I got to the wall and turned around. I was rewarded with my first view of the Mysterious Mr. Karl.

His hair, long and in a pony tail, was a seemingly naturally impossible shade of red, but it didn't look dyed either. His eyes were hidden by black goggles, and his skin was a surprising mocha color. I was right, Karl's hands weren't large, like Finn's, no, they, like the rest of Karl, that I could see, were freaking _humongous!_ He was dressed in worn, faded jeans, generic sneakers, a tan polo shirt, and crisp white lab coat with a strange logo consisting of what looked to be a sword-bearing phoenix entwined with a cobra and surrounded by creeping vines.

Karl walked up, or more like staggered with his enormous height, and pulled out my limps, securely strapping me at my wrists, elbows, knees, ankles, waist, chest, neck, and forehead. I was not comfortable in the least, but said nothing in protest.

Once he was sure was held fast, he stepped back and walked to a complex looking console. He took a seat and began fiddling with different switches, button, keypads, and all manner of weird doohickeys.

"Initialization Process Phase One: Lowering shield and forming airlock, commencing," stated a mechanical female voice in a pleasant manner. Just as she/it spoke, a clear shield lowered down with a soft hiss all around me. Karl did some more complicated things, and I waited to see what else they had planned for me.

"Preparation Phase: Sterilization, in commencing," she/it continues happily. I felt a slight tingle of apprehension. Then, I got a super freaking PAINFUL tingle as some rays shot out from various angles on the ceiling and swept over my body. The AI, at least, that's what I'm guessing she/it was, announced the phase done, as she had all the others.

"Main Phase One: Holding Spray, commencing," she plowed on. I had no idea what this so-called "holding spray" was, but I was guessing it wasn't a hair product of any kind. At least this "holding spray" was painless. It just left me with a slightly…_raw_ feeling.

"Main Phase Two: DNA Coder, commencing," the cheerful voice chirped. What in the name of the late and great Alexander McQueen was a DNA Coder, and why the heck were they using it on me? It was too late to back out though, because there was a slight increase in the hum of the surrounding machinery before I was hit with what must have been an honest-to-Gaga lightning bold! I jerked and spasmed wildly, dimly thankful for the restraints. Finally, my body relaxed some, and though I still had slight tremors, I slumped down into the straps holding me up.

"Main Phase Three: Gene Soup, commencing," relentlessly she continued. I seriously wanted to claw that woman's eyes out! And that was before I realized that the enclosed space I was in was being rapidly filled by a strange greenish-gray soup. It rose much, much to fast, covering me up to my knee, then waist, and then coming towards my face.

I shivered in disgust as the thick, lumpy, and slimy liquid finally covered my head. It crept into my mouth, despite my keeping it clamped shut, and up my nose and down the back of my throat. As it slid down into my lungs, I wanted to scream, to retch, to cough, to do anything! But, inexorably, the goo moved on, filling my stomach. It was only as the liquid began to pour embarrassingly from my…ahem, behind that I realized that the sterilization that I went through must have gotten rid of my clothes as well as my germs.

It even crept up under my eyelids, but when I felt I would finally just outright faint, I heard the AI's voice dimly. While I still wanted to mangle that damned machine, I couldn't have been more glad to hear it.

"Finalization Process Phase One: Draining, commencing," she warbled as, thankfully, the vile goo drained out of the room. I barely had time to gasp in some much appreciated air before she continued.

"Finalization Process Phase Two: Sterilization, commencing." It may have just been me, but he voice sounded just a touch _too_ gleeful at this point. I was annoyed to find it hurt just as much the second time.

"Finalization Process Phase Three: Releasing airlock and lifting shield. Process Complete. Welcome, Agent Oberon," she thankfully became quiet after that. Of course, as soon as I regained the ability to speak coherently, I would more than make up for her silence, believe me! But Karl beat me to the punch.

"Before you start the indignant interrogation no doubt on the tip of your tongue, please, allow me to explain what just happened here.

"The Facility's members fight against strange alien creatures from all over the galaxy, some of which are much more physically advanced than we are. Therefore, my grandfather, Dr. Marcus Baker, began experiments for a special 'enhancement soup', for lack of a better term. You, Mr. Hummel, were just treated with the latest version. This 'soup' enhances many of your physical traits, up to and including but not limited to, your senses, speed, strength, reflexes, and pain threshold. Congratulations, Mr. Hummel, you are now 'superhuman'", Karl ended his impromptu lecture drily. I nodded to show I understood, but still opened my mouth to ask another question. Again, Karl began talking before I could.

"If you're about to ask about the name, don't. Aisha chose it and she can't be persuaded to change it. She already had you in all the files as Agent Oberon, no doubt," he grumped, shooting the ceiling and annoyed glance and clueing me in to the AI's name. I shrugged. If that was the case, it looked as if I had nothing to chew him out about, which just left me wondering what to do next.

"How'd you like the suit? This is a new issue?" questioned Karl, and it was only then that I realized that I was a shiny, skintight black bodysuit with what I now supposed was the Facility's logo on the left breast. It felt comfortable, like a second skin, and I told him so. He seemed pleased, and I belatedly realized he'd probably, made it himself. He typed something on one of the keypads and seemed to get so engrossed he forgot me completely. Unsure of what to do, I cleared my throat just loudly enough to catch his attention. He looked up as if startled, then face-palmed and gave a little self-deprecating chuckle.

"Of course, you don't know what to do next! Well, Aisha had no doubt already picked your partner, so what you need to do is do what this tells you to," and here he handed me a small, slim, device with a touch screen before continuing," It should tell you your room and locker numbers, your partner, your division, your next mission, heck, everything you need to know will be on there when you need to know it. It's a portable extension of Aisha, you can speak to her and she can speak to you. Conveniently, it also has phone and computer functions, and can easily disguise itself…don't ask me how. Is it as clear as mud now?" he said the last bit with a dry grin.

"Pretty much, thank you, Karl," I replied, giving him a soft smile. For a moment, he seemed confused before realization dawned on his face.

"Oh, my name isn't Karl. It's Kevin," he corrected. This time, I frowned.

"But Mr. Diablos-"

"-get's everyone's, except yours, name wrong 'accidently on purpose'" Kevin finished.

"Oh. My apologies," I sheepishly apologized.

"Whatever, it's no big deal. Now get lost!" he waved it off good-naturedly. Nodding, I headed towards the elevator door. Just as the doors shut, I shot him a quick wave, which he absent-mindedly returned. Once they fully closed, I pulled the device closer to my face and spoke tentatively.

"Um, Aisha? What am I supposed to do now?" The device vibrated lightly for a second or two before the screen flashed wine red and gold and the Facility logo appeared. The same voice from the outfitting room replied from the device.

"Find your designated partner. His room is located right next to yours, which is Room #185, Second Floor," informed Aisha.

"Um, thanks. I'll just…get to that then? I said, still feeling kinda weird talking to her.

"Yes, please do," her voice remained pleasantly bland, as usual, but I got the impression she was rolling her eyes. Shaking of the weird image, I touched the #2 on the elevator pad and settled in for the ride down.

_TBC…_

**AN: Okay, babes, this is another set-up chapter, but don't y'all fret, chickies, the Puckmeister is gonna be showing up next chapter. Also, please be aware that I'll try to make the humor part in the humor/sci-fi genre evident, but it may not always be there if it'd be just an awkward annoyance to me. I won't add the humor if I don't feel the humor, 'kay? We all got that? Good. Now then, JasonDragon(insert numbers I can't remember here)'s oneshot is coming along fine, and should be up soon. Again, guys, if any of you reading this are waiting for the next chapter in Of Elven Princes, well, you're gonna have to tell me what you want. I haven't gone any further idea-wise. Well, that's it, please enjoy. Oh yeah, and there will be NO Mr. Diablos/Kurt. None at ALL!**

…**okay, okay, there will, but it'll be totally one-sided, 'kay? Or, what do you guys think?**


	3. In Which Kurt Wonders What He's Done

**Disclaimer: Do I own Glee? Let's see, do bears poop in toilets? No? Well, there you go then!**

**Warnings: Same as before, babes!**

I stood nervously at the entrance to Room #185, hand poised to knock on the door, but too many butterflies swarming in my stomach made it hard to muster the force to tap my knuckles on the wood. I might have stood there for hours, had not Aisha, or at least, I assumed it to be her, rang some sort of doorbell to alert my partner, whoever they might be, of my presence. I pulled my arm down but otherwise stayed in place, nervous as all get-out. The door swished open, making me absent-mindedly think to myself that the Facility enjoyed the pretence of old fashion, before my every thought was caught up in trying to make sure what was before me was not simply a hallucination conjured up by the "gene soup". Because, so help me Gaga, _Noah Puckerman_ stood in the doorway, looking back at me in similar shock.

"_Puck?"_ I asked incredulously just as he also spoke my name in the same sentiment.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?" queried Puck, but despite the hostility in his sentence, there seemed to a surprising undercurrent of fond relief in his hazel eyes. I could also admit, if only to myself, that my eyes probably bared the same feeling, for as little camaraderie as was between the two of us, it was strangely wonderful to have someone familiar, at least in passing, as partner in this strange, bright, wonderfully crazy, big, new world.

Puck stepped back wordlessly to grant me entrance, and I gave him a thankful nod as I walked in. It seemed obvious to me that he hadn't been here long, as it was still passably neat and uncluttered. I was looking at a picture of a smiling gap-toothed little girl with long brown ponytails and Puck's eyes when Puck finally decided to speak.

"Never thought I'd see you here, Hummel? I'd have thought you'd be too chicken," he said affably, somehow taking the sting from his words. I shrugged helplessly.

"Well, at first it seemed a joke, but then…I don't even know, Puck…somehow, I felt that I just _had _to do this! It's like…" I cut myself off, blushing furiously at the thought of the word I had been about to use, but Puck just gave a sympathetic nod before continuing where I left off.

"-destiny or some shit, right? I mean, I was totally thinking I was being fucking Punk'd or something like that, but I just this weird…_thought_ that I just had to this! It was like…Harry Potter or Luke Skywalker, or something, y'know? Destiny, and prophecy, and George Lucas and crap," Puck tried to explain. I felt my lips twitch in amusement and found myself suddenly, strangely more than just relieved that Noah Puckerman of all people was my partner, in fact, I felt actually, rather pleased, so I told him so. He smirked, as expected, and made some ridiculous Puckasaurus comment, but his eyes betrayed him again, and I could tell he returned the sentiment.

"So, how was that freaky science experiment thing, huh? Felt like was in a weird redo of Frankenstein. Did it hurt for you too? Aisha told me that depending on what they're trying to 'enhance', there are different levels of pain," Puck explained. I shrugged again.

"Other than that stupid sterilization, it wasn't really painful for me…even though, now you say it; I do remember a couple sharp pains in by head…" I trailed off, finding it strange that I only just realized that I had had them, and wondering why. Then, realization hit me.

"…I think it has to do with our areas of…expertise, so to speak. I'm more mentally inclined, so even though they enhanced my body, I think they concentrated more on my brain, meanwhile you, being more physically inclined, experienced the more painful body enhancements," I theorized. Now it was Puck's turn to shrug.

"Makes sense. Look, Hummel, I've already asked Aisha some shit, and I'll just tell you so you don't waste time asking: (1) your room is right next to and connects with mine, (2) don't try the cafeteria's 'mystery meat' if you want to live, (3) Dr. Diablos is the head mofo and is to be obeyed at all times, (4) the lab dude's name is actually Kevin, and (5) our first mission could be any minute now-" here Puck's spiel was cut off by a blaring alarm.

"-as I was saying," he continued with a smirk and a wiggle of his eyebrows that, I have to admit, if only to myself, made my heart flutter just a bit.

"Agents Oberon and Puck please proceed to Weapons Room after debriefing, immediately," Aisha said blandly.

"Debriefing?" I muttered to Puck questioningly, to which he simply shrugged, as bewildered as I was. Just then, the little device vibrated slightly and a holographic head shot of the screen and beamed at us with a sly grin that showed way too many shining white teeth for comfort. It didn't take much deduction for me to name the individual as Aisha.

"Yes, agents, debriefing. There has been a break-in, but not a robbery, at a highly secure science lab in Nevada. It is the fifth in a chain of similar cases, and, from what we've been able to gather, has something to do with aliens, or, one alien in particular," she paused and her face disappeared, replaced by a face that at first seemed human, before I began to notice several details. The lines of the face were a touch too sharp to be human, and his lower jaw protruded in an almost equine fashion. The eyes were large, freakishly so, serrated teeth stuck out between its lips, drool slid from its mouth, and, by far the worst, its skin had an almost melting look about it, making you feel that if he stood still long enough, it would slide right on down of his face and leave his angular skull open to the elements. I shuddered at both the thought and the malicious glint in his maroon eyes.

"This handsome fellow is Babuk Klamud-Kle, a Dreeni scientist on the fun from his home world. He is wanted there for cruelty, both the animals and others of his kind, and he is here on earth to finish the experiments that he could not on Dreen. To finish them he needs bodies, dead ones, and lots of em, as well as several other components, some of which he had had to recreate here on earth."

"…Okay, so he's a mad scientist creep. What are we supposed to do about it?" asked Puck. Aisha's ever-present smirk broadened.

"I'm glad you asked, Agent Puck. Well, the answer is simple: stop him. We have been informed that his normal 'hang out' is a club in Las Vegas called the Purple Spotted Pony. Your mission is to go there, and capture him. If that's not possible, then destroying his experiment would be the secondary goal. Clear?"

"Crystal. But won't we need directions, weapons, transportation-"here the AI cut me off.

"Not really. Or perhaps, I should say, you already have them. Agent Oberon, your portable device easily morphs into a special headset which interfaces with your brain, giving you all the directions and background info you might need. Agent Puck, your device morphs into 'shock cuffs' which function quite nicely as weapons, if I do say so myself. And finally, as for transportation, you boys will be hooked up with M.A.T.T.U, the morphing all terrain transport unit. You may call your unit Matt for short. Now is everything clear?"

"As mud. Let's make tracks," grunted Puck as he pushed off from the wall and started out the room, me following after him. Lifting the PD (portable device) up to my head, it morphed like…I don't know, the Venom symbiote, crawled slickly up my arm and formed a strange headset that went from one ear to the other, as well as covered my right eye.

The first thing that changed was my vision, becoming mottled with acidic green splotches. The next thing was, well…every damn thing! I suppose this was the "interface" that Aisha had mentioned. It was like, a whole new world existing both in, around, and somehow also completely unrelated to the world around me was suddenly open to my perusal, and the strange information that bombarded my brain was both amazingly wonderful and slightly frightening. I shook my head like a wet dog, trying to rid myself of the annoying buzz all these new sensations were giving me.

"What's up, little Hummel? Feeling dizzy?" Puck asked, and it was only then I realized that I had been reeling dizzily and leaning against Puck's, rather fine, muscled arm. Blushing furiously, I pushed myself away and stood by myself, straightening imaginary wrinkles in my skin-tight suit and trying to ignore my splotchy view of Puck's amused expression.

"No! I feel fine! Let's go to the hangar, get Matt. Then we can go stop this Dr. Babuk," I stated. Puck gave a careless shrug.

"Sure, boss, you're the brains of the operation," and with that startling declaration, he proceeded to go about doing just that.

Matt was a slick black vehicle of some sort with intermittent flashing and shining green, blue, and red lights. Right now, it, he, was in the shape of a very futuristic Star Wars-esque aircraft, and had lowered a hatch for us to climb in. Hesitantly, at least on my part, we stepped in. The inside…well, it did nothing to dissuade me of the Star Wars-iness of the ship.

"Welcome aboard, agents. I am Matt. Where do you want me to take you?" a somewhat mechanical but obviously male and obviously eager voice queried. Puck looked perplexed, not so much by the talking ship, but because he had no idea where exactly we were supposed to go, other than somewhere in Nevada. I thought I had the same problem as well, but then, as if I had always knew, the words Five Points Lab, Turner Nevada, stamped themselves onto my brains. I relayed them to Matt, who was all too happy to make sure we strapped in tightly in the comfy chairs before shooting out of the hangar we were in and into the starry, dark night. In an amazingly short amount of time, considering the distance from New York City to Nevada, we arrived. In the middle of a burning wreck. Yes, ladies and gents, Five Points Lab, and all the people in it, was nothing more than a fiery shell and a lingering smell of antiseptics and gasoline.

What in the name of Broadway have I gotten myself into?

_TBC…_

**AN: …Is it too late to say that there is violence, gore, and disturbing contents in this fic? No? Good. Cuz there is. So, hopefully, next chapter will contain the ACTION! And no, you little gutter-brains, I ain't talkin' sex. Sheesh! Is that all you people think about? Anywho, yeah, here it is. Hope you enjoy the fruit of my fried brains, biatches! Ciao, chickies!**


	4. My Apologies!

My dear chickies, it is with great sadness as well as sheepishness that I tell you that I am abandoning this work. I know this will probably enrage some of you, but it can't be helped. I would rather abandon and offer up for adoption a story I have run out of inspiration for, than churn out a stupid sub-par ending.

Yes, all my stories that I have not moved to my Ao3 account (MostlySane), are up for adoption. However, please do not adopt the ones I have moved. I am not planning on taking down any of the ones I have moved, so you can still read them as far as they are here, however, I will likely be updating on my Ao3 account.

Thanks so much for being understanding! I love you all, and I'm sorry that I had to do this. Hopefully, if you're not too mad at me, you will send me a message either here or on Ao3 and keep reading!

Please PM me if you are interested in adopting this story.

Much love,

Nasti


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